Hands
by clair beaubien
Summary: Another tag to 4.22 Dean & Sam are driving through the night away from the convent. Sam is miserable and despondent. Dean is - Dean.


_Monster. Freak. You're a freak and a monster. A freak and a monster._

Sam sat in the passenger seat, trying to make himself as small as he could. It wasn't a big car to start with, not nearly as big as the Impala, and he didn't want to take up any more room than he had to. He didn't want to be any closer to Dean thanjk he had to.

He didn't want Dean to have to be any closer to him.

_Monster. Freak. You're not human anymore. There's no going back. You're a monster. You're a freak._

Sam couldn't keep the words from echoing in his head, repeating like a heartbeat.

_You're a monster. You're a freak._ _You're a monster. You're a freak._

Darkness filled the night around them as they drove away from the convent. For the first half hour no cars passed them, they passed no neighborhoods or malls or office buildings. Dean was grimly silent, his hands gripping the steering wheel like he wanted to crush it, staring straight ahead. Dead straight ahead.

Sam tried not to be restless in his seat, he didn't want to fidget, he didn't want to bother Dean. But if he looked out the passenger window, he saw his reflection, either in the window or the side view mirror, and he didn't want to be able to see himself, even a little. Even in the darkness. If he turned to look the other way, he would be looking at Dean and he didn't want to do that either. Dean shouldn't have to look at him. Dean shouldn't have to see him.

_Don't look at him. Don't show him your eyes. It's in your eyes now. Don't show him your eyes._

Not that his eyes were black or yellow or any way but the way they always were, he'd looked long enough at his reflection to know that. But it was still there, the darkness was still there and he didn't want to risk Dean seeing the darkness in his eyes. Dean knew the darkness was there, he didn't need to be reminded.

So Sam sat and stared out the windshield. Stiff. Uncomfortable. Afraid. He shoved his hands under his thighs to try and keep as much of himself out of the way as he could. He'd never hated his size as much as he did right now, wishing he could be small or invisible or both. Dean must hate him. Dean had to hate him, every square inch of him and that was a lot of hate.

_Monster. Freak. You're not human. You shouldn't be alive. No matter how far you go or what you look at, everything and everyone you see, you doomed. Monster. Freak. Stupid._

Tears rolled down Sam's face but he didn't wipe them away, he didn't want to move his hands. He didn't want to move at all. He didn't want to draw any attention to himself. Let Dean forget as much as possible that he was here. That they were here together. Be invisible. Disappear. Just disappear.

The road went on and on, and so did the night, and so did the silence. Sam almost wished that Dean would yell or storm or anything voluble. He knew from his whole life that Dean angry was Dean concerned. When Dean was quiet - that was just all kinds of bad.

A couple of times Sam almost said something but what could he say? '_Sorry'?_ That would be a little underwhelming, wouldn't it? Underwhelming or overbearing, as though '_sorry'_ would be enough. As if anything could ever be enough.

So Sam didn't say anything. He sat still, next to Dean, in the dark and misery.

_You're a monster. You're a freak. You're a monster. You're a freak. _

After awhile, Sam found himself closing his eyes and letting them stay closed. He considered resting his head against the window but he didn't want to see his reflection. He considered resting his head on seat turned away from the window, turned toward Dean but – but he couldn't do that to Dean.

_Don't look at him. Don't show him your eyes. It's in your eyes now. Don't show him your eyes._

So he let his head hang forward, and let sleep steal up around him. If he couldn't be invisible to the world, at least the world would be invisible to him for a little while.

Then, it seemed a long while later, he felt a hand on his shoulder, "C'mon Sam," and when he lifted his head he saw that they were at a small town gas & shop.

"What?" He mumbled the question before he remembered he wasn't going to make a sound, wasn't going to talk or ask questions or do anything but whatever Dean told him to do.

"I filled the tank. I have to go get some things. I'm not leaving you out here alone ."

_Because you're a monster. Because you're a freak. Because you might run off and hide instead of taking what's coming to you. Because you're stupid._

"Okay."

Sam unwedged himself from the car and followed behind Dean, feeling stiff and aching and like he had a neon sign on him, _'This freak let hell loose on earth. This monster doomed you.' _ Like everybody would look at him and everybody who looked at him would know and everybody who knew would watch and whisper and threaten and maybe even try something.

_Bloodsucking monster. Stupid freak. _

But he followed Dean inside, not lifting his eyes any higher than Dean's boot heels.

"All right, go on in. I'll wait here." Dean said and Sam didn't know what he was talking about until he looked up and saw that they were standing outside the men's room, down a narrow utility hallway. He didn't think he needed it, but if he learned anything from a life inside a moving car – never skip the chance to relieve yourself. Even freaks and monsters had to pee he supposed.

He went into the small room and started to close the door, but Dean pushed to keep it open a few inches and stood – so Sam saw when he looked up once – where he could see Sam's face in the mirror. And when he was done and went back into the hallway, Dean pointed him to the exact spot, "You stand here," and still kept the door open so he could see Sam in the mirror if he wanted to while he took care of his own business.

_Monster. Freak. Keep you on a leash until you get what's coming to you. Bloodsucking monster. Stupid freak._

"All right. C'mon Sam."

And Sam followed him back out into the store, watching Dean's boot heels, counting floor tiles, almost running into Dean whenever he'd stop for a minute and Sam wasn't paying close enough attention. What was Dean doing? Didn't they have to get out of here? Did Dean have to pay for the gas? Didn't _Sam_ have to pay for what he'd done? For every single thing he'd done?

Then Dean stopped again and didn't start moving again and Sam stared down at the middle of the back of his shirt. Dean was talking to somebody, whatever he was saying Sam didn't know, couldn't get himself to make out the words.

_Please can we get out of here? Please can we get back in the car? Please I don't want to be here. Please don't make me be in here I don't want to be in here just let me get back to the car and I'll be invisible and nobody'll have to know I'm even there please can we go back to the car?_

"Okay, thanks." Dean said to the somebody and Sam saw his boots turn on the cracked tile floor and then it was, "C'mon Sam," and Sam was following his boot heels again, out of the store, to the too-small car, to the unending darkness and silence and ribbonning road, with his head down, hands under his thighs, trying to shrink into the nothing he knew he was.

_Monster. Freak. Monster. Freak._

Then the car was pulling off into a parking area, under a streetlight. Sam wished they wouldn't park under a light, he didn't want Dean to have to see him, but the first rule of hiding was to not look like you were hiding. He didn't even know why they were stopping.

He heard a plastic bag rustling and a bottle of water got set next to him and a cardboard box for a slice of pizza appeared in his lap. That couldn't be for him. That had to be wrong. _Monsters go hungry. Freaks don't eat. _ The food couldn't be for him. He pulled it off his lap and set it on the seat next to himself. A second later it was in his lap again.

"C'mon Sam." Dean said. "Eat."

_Freaks don't eat._ _Monsters go hungry._ But Sam was going to do anything Dean told him to do. He opened the box and picked up the pizza and grease dripped down his fingers. He bit off the end and set the rest back in the box and the piece in his mouth seemed to grow as he chewed, it got bigger and bigger until he knew he'd never be able to swallow it and his body reacted against it, gagging so hard tears came to his eyes, and he resisted the gagging, not wanting to cause trouble, not wanting to waste food. Then the box on his lap was gone and a hand appeared, Dean's hand, palm up, in front of him.

"Spit it out. C'mon Sam. _Spit it out._" Dean said, he insisted, and Sam did. He spit the sodden bolus of gore into Dean's hand, and then spit again because his body insisted. He scrubbed hard at his mouth with both hands, at the spit and grease and the blood. He could always taste the blood, it never went away. He had to scrub the blood away.

_Don't let Dean see the blood. Dean can't see the blood. Stupid freak. Blood sucking monster. You're not even human. Keep you on a leash until you get what's coming. Monster. Freak. Stupid freak. _

"C'mon Sam." Dean seemed to be forever saying that. He pulled Sam's hands away from his face and wiped them off with a white paper napkin, first one then the other, turning them over to check back and front. Then, "Here," and a hand, Dean's hand, touched Sam's chin and turned his face toward Dean.

_Don't look up. Don't show your eyes. It's in your eyes now. Don't show __your eyes._

Sam closed his eyes and Dean used the napkin to wipe his mouth and then the tears, and then the hand didn't let go of his chin.

"C'mon Sam, look at me." Dean said. There was no anger, but Sam shook his head.

_Don't look up. It's in your eyes now. Don't show him your eyes._

"C'mon Sam." Dean still insisted and Sam opened his eyes but wouldn't look up, and Dean tilted his head up gradually until Sam had to look at him or roll his eyes down into his cheekbones. He looked at Dean and started to shake because he didn't know what Dean wanted but all Dean did was look at him, look into his eyes like Dad used to if ever Sam took a knock on the head or had a fever or even just said he didn't feel good. Like something more than vitreous fluid was to be found in there.

_Monster. Freak. Keep you on a leash until you get what's coming to you. Stupid freak._

Then Dean let go and Sam dropped his head and turned away. The pizza box got put away, into that plastic bag from the sound of it, and then that got dropped into the back seat. Dean cracked open the water bottle and held it under Sam's nose.

"C'mon Sam. Drink."

But Sam didn't want to. He wanted to do what Dean told him to but he didn't want to gag the water all over the front seat.

"C'mon Sam, try some for me. It's okay if you toss it back up."

So Sam took a sip and waited for the retch that didn't come and drank a little more and the shaking slowed and stopped. He drank some more and held the open bottle in one hand and put the other hand under his thigh and stared down at his lap.

_Monster. Freak. Bloodsucking monster. Stupid freak._

They pulled out on the interstate and the miles slipped by. Sam drank his water because Dean said to and kept his head down because he had to. Dean didn't turn on any music - _how would you score the Apocalypse - AC/DC or Ralph Vaughan Williams? _- and Sam wished he'd turn something on just for the wall of separation the noise would make.

Anything. Anything. Just to not feel like the biggest thing in this little car anymore.

"Daylight soon." Dean said finally, after what might've been hours. "We need someplace." Shorthand for needing someplace to squat for a while, maybe all day until the sun set, and they'd drive on in the dark again.

Dean didn't need long to find them _someplace_. He had years of experience on backroads and in withering neighborhoods and pretty soon he was pulling into a rutted driveway and around behind a decaying house. Sam followed him out of the car. They had nothing to bring in, no pillows, no blankets, no weapons, not even Dean's jacket. Nothing but the plastic bag from the back seat. And themselves.

_The hero and the freak. The savior and the monster. The brother and the stupid -_

"C'mon Sam. The board over this window is loose." Dean spoke low; there was no other house for a hundred yards in any direction, but no sense making too much noise. Sam stood by, he took the plastic bag when Dean handed it to him and waited while Dean pulled the plywood aside and then went in first because Dean told him to.

Then he stood and waited in the dark room, waited for Dean to come into the empty house to tell him what to do next.

_Don't look at him. Don't show him your eyes. It's in your eyes now. Don't show him your eyes._

"C'mon Sam, let's find a place to get some sleep." Dean took the plastic bag from him and pulled a butane lighter out of it, flicked it on and led the way. The house smelled of green moss and brown damp and gray must, and Sam felt his stomach roll, remembering those exact smells from the ruin he squatted in after Dean died.

_I don't want to stay here please I don't want stay here please I don't want to -_

"Well, we won't get too comfy in this place, just a few hours. C'mon Sam."

Even with the lighter the house was too dark to follow boot heels so Sam followed the silhouette of Dean's shoulders. Followed the way he should've followed him all this time, all this nearly year, followed him the way that if he _had _followed him -

_Monster. Freak. Stupid freak. Stupid stupid stupid -_

"This room looks dry. C'mon Sam."

Dean scouted the room with the lighter, looking close into the corners, Sam still following right behind him, until one corner met with Dean's approval.

"All right, c'mon Sam."

"What?" Sam wanted to do what Dean told him to do, but he didn't know what Dean was telling him to do.

_Stupid freak. Monster. Keep you on a leash. Stupid._

"Sit down, I'm gonna lay a salt line, I need to make it big enough."

"Okay." Sam inched forward, past Dean, in front of Dean, until he was in the corner, and he pressed his back against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor.

_Don't want to be in front of Dean need to be behind Dean safe is behind Dean can't be in front of Dean don't want to be in front of Dean safe is behind Dean safe is behind Dean..._

Dean crouched down and took some squat candles out of the plastic bag. He lit them and set them on the floor then stuck the lighter in his pocket. He pulled a couple containers of salt out of the bag then and turned around to lay the line. Sam felt better that he could see the back of Dean's shirt and he stared at it as Dean poured out the salt.

_Safe is behind Dean safe is behind Dean safe is...Dean..._

When Dean got closer, Sam pulled his feet up. He took up too much space. He should be smaller. He needed to be smaller.

"C'mon Sam, it's okay. I got enough." Dean said and Sam stretched his legs out again. After cramping up for so long in the car, it felt good to just stretch out.

And that made him pull his feet up again.

_Freaks don't matter. Monsters don't hurt. Freak. Monster. Stupid. _

Dean finished the line and tossed the empty containers into the dark room and sat down with sigh next to Sam. Too close, Sam thought, he shouldn't make himself sit that close to Sam and Sam couldn't get any farther away unless he clawed a hole in the wall _which he might just do because why was Dean sliding closer and why was he reaching out his hand to touch Sam and - _

"C'mon Sam." Dean said and patted Sam's knee. "It's okay. I made the line big enough. Relax. You need to get some rest."

And Sam stretched his legs out again because Dean wanted him to and he leaned his head against the damp wall and watched the flame of one of the candles do a wild dance in some silent draft.

"Okay. Let's get this party started." Dean pulled the plastic bag closer, it sounded like he pulled something out but Sam didn't look until he heard Dean say, "C'mon Sam," for about the billionth time that night and when he looked, Dean was holding out a plastic bottle. "Hands."

Sam looked at his hands. These hands that could kill without even touching. With his brains and a computer and these hands he'd done tens of thousands of hours of research in his lifetime. These were the hands that never wrote the letters that his brain never dictated to Dad and Dean when he was in college. These hands could dig a grave, hotwire a car, pick a lock, stitch a wound, soothe a fever, hold a woman.

Doom a world.

_Monster. Freak. You shouldn't be alive. No matter how far you go or what you look at, everything and everyone you see, you doomed. Monster. Freak. Stupid freak._

"C'mon Sam - hold out your hands."

So Sam held out his hands. Maybe Dean was going to cut them off. But he only squeezed a generous puddle of hand sanitizer in them. A messy lesson they learned years ago - old, damp, mossy houses like this grew their own arsenal of bugs, germs, and intestinal enemies. A hand washed this morning was a lunch not lost this afternoon.

The liquid was chill in his palms and was a bit too much even for his big hands, and some dripped onto his jeans as he rubbed his hands together. He had to clean his hands. He had to clean - he had to clean -

_Blood. Always so much blood. Don't let Dean see the blood. Dean can't see the blood. Stupid freak. Blood sucking monster. Don't let Dean see the blood. _

Sam scrubbed at his mouth again with both hands, desperate to wash the blood away. He had to wash the blood away.

_Dean can't see the blood. Don't let Dean see the blood._

"C'mon Sam. Enough." Then other hands, Dean's hands, touched his and pulled them down and Dean was looking into his eyes again. _"Enough."_ And he held Sam's hands and he held his gaze until Sam nodded.

"Okay."

"Okay." And Dean pulled out more paper napkins - he must've emptied the store of them - and wiped Sam's face and then his hands and then crumpled the napkins and tossed them out into the room. "Okay?" He asked again and Sam didn't know why he was asking.

_Freaks don't matter. Monsters don't hurt. _

But Dean wanted an answer so Sam nodded.

"Okay...so -." Dean sat back and pulled open the ubiquitous plastic bag. "Breakfast..." He handed over a plastic spoon and a Snack Pack vanilla pudding with the lid already peeled back. "C'mon Sam. You need to eat something."

_Freaks go hungry. Monsters don't eat._

"_Sam._"

So Sam took the pudding and the spoon and a tentative swallow. It was as tasteless as if his tongue had been scalded but Dean wanted him to eat it so he ate it. One spoonful at a time. One tiny spoonful until it was all gone.

The spoon did look awfully small in Sam's hand. It almost looked like - it looked like - like his hand was growing as he stared at it. His hand was getting bigger. _He _was getting bigger. He could feel it. He was growing, filling the corner, taking up all the room. Soon his head would hit the ceiling and break through the plaster and he'd be so big he'd crush Dean and maybe not even realize and he couldn't - he had to -

He threw the spoon and empty container away from himself and pressed his hands over his head, trying to keep from growing any bigger.

_Don't hurt Dean don't hurt Dean don't hurt Dean don't hurt Dean -_

Then those other hands, Dean's hands, were on his face, making him turn toward Dean, Dean who was just the same size he ever was so Sam had to be too, Dean who was looking him straight in the eye, who was saying something to him.

"C'mon Sam, can you hear me?"

_Don't hurt Dean don't hurt Dean don't hurt Dean don't hurt Dean -_

"Do you understand what I'm saying?" He kept staring at Sam, with the candlelight and the sunlight that was reaching around the boards in the windows dancing shadows on his face. He must hate Sam. He had to hate Sam.

"_Sammy do you hear me?_"

"Yes." Sam answered because Dean wanted him to answer.

"Take your hands down." Dean's voice was even and unemotional. No anger, no hate, nothing but - "C'mon Sam, put your hands in your lap."

"Okay." Sam brought his hands down and twisted them together and pulled his knees up and wished he could be invisible. He wished Dean didn't hate him.

"C'mon Sam, you need to calm down. Okay? You need to get some rest."

_Freaks don't get tired. Monsters don't rest. Bloodsucking monster. Keep you on a leash. Stupid freak. _

"_Sam._" Dean still had his hands on Sam's face. "_Look at me."_

Sam looked. He looked at Dean and saw that the dark shadows on his face weren't from the candles or the errant sunlight. Dean was tired. He was exhausted. Dean needed Sam to do what he was told and get some rest so that he could get some rest too.

_Calm down. Get some rest. Let Dean rest. Stop being trouble. Let Dean rest. Don't hurt Dean don't hurt Dean don't hurt Dean. _

"It's just for a few hours Sam, then we'll get back on the road. Okay?"

Sam nodded. He nodded and turned away, out of Dean's hands, away from Dean and towards the wall. He pulled his knees closer and closed his eyes and rested his head against the damp, crumbling wallpaper. Hiding. Outside this house, outside in the world, hell was devouring the earth just as surely as mildew was devouring this house.

And he was hiding from it.

_Bloodsucking monster. Spineless freak. Coward. Get what's coming to you. Coward. Stupid freak. Cowering monster. Get what you deserve._

A touch on his arm made Sam flinch, he almost turned to look, but it was Dean and he didn't want to see Dean. He didn't want Dean to have to see him.

"C'mon Sam. Get some sleep. We've slept in worse places."

"Okay."

Then quiet surrounded them, the quiet of a decaying house. Something, some _things_, skittered across the floor out in the shadows of the candles. Mice if they were lucky, rats if they weren't. Rats were bad. He'd been five or six the first time he heard Dad talking to somebody about rats, how he faced down a rat so big it lunged at him, ripped the glove off his hand, and took three bullets before it went down. Of things that were alive and not supernatural, rats were _bad_.

Eventually though, eventually sleep stole up around Sam again, the skittering faded, the heavy smell of decay faded. Dean wanted him to sleep, so he would sleep. It was okay to sleep if Dean told him to do it.

But rats invaded Sam's dreams, huge rats, shape shifting rats with vampire teeth and yellow eyes. One particularly enormous dream rat lunged at him out of a brilliant white light and Sam flinched awake into dewy heat and something heavy resting across his arms. Afraid it was a rat, or something even worse, he took a slow cautious look and saw that Dean - even in sleep - Dean had his arm braced across the front of Sam.

_Keep you on a leash. Bloodsucking monster. Take what's coming to you. There's no going back. Stupid freak. _

Dad used to do that, keep an arm across them at night. Sam remembered sleeping between Dad and Dean was he was really really little and Dad kept an arm across both of them all night. At first he believed Dad when he said that it was to keep them from falling out of bed. He realized later that it was an alarm - if either of them, Dean or Sam, moved or _were_ moved at all, Dad would know and wake up. And protect them.

Dean had kept up the practice, later, when Sam was older, if ever he was sick or hurt, Dean would sleep next to Sam with an arm across him, so he'd wake up if Sam so much as took a deep breath. So he'd wake up if Sam needed him. So he could take care of Sam.

That couldn't be what he was doing now, protecting Sam, taking care of him. It couldn't be.

_Freaks don't matter. Monsters don't hurt._

And then he saw the knife. Gripped tight in Dean's other hand. And it all came rushing on Sam in an instant.

_Knife. Salt line. Trapped. Give you what's coming. Dad said kill the freak. Salt line, knife, trap the monster, kill the freak, Dad said kill the freak. Kill the freak._

Sam gasped and pulled back. The movement stirred Dean and he shot awake, bringing the knife up, instantly on alert.

"What? What is it?" He scanned the room first and then turned to Sam and scanned him. "Are you okay?"

"Knife." Sam's mouth was dry. "The - the knife."

_Trap the monster. Kill the freak._

"I've got the knife right here." Dean said, like Sam had only been worried they were unprotected. "It's okay. What'd you see? Was something in the room?"

"N-no. No. Nothing. No I just - no. No." Sam turned his head away from Dean.

_It's in your eyes. Don't show him your eyes. Monster. Freak. Stupid freak. _

"Okay." But Dean said it in that way that meant that just because he said it didn't mean he felt it. "So, we've been here a few hours, it's going on nine. Let's see about getting this show on the road. Hands."

Without looking, Sam held his hands out toward Dean for another dollop of hand sanitizer. Sunlight spilled into the room through a small unboarded window high up near the ceiling. Dean gutted the candles then cleaned his own hands.

"And this time you _should _wash your face, after sleeping against that wall."

"Okay." Sam rubbed his hands together then rubbed one hand over his face, over his mouth, and tasted the bitter cleanser. Maybe if he could ingest it, ingest enough of some bitter, supernatural cleanser, maybe - maybe -

"Pudding or cheese stick?" Dean asked, rummaging through the plastic bag. Again.

"Not hungry."

_Monsters go hungry. Freaks don't eat._

"Got a headache?"

"Yeah." Not that Sam really did have a headache, it was just an automatic answer. But Dean rummaged some more and brought out a bottle of aspirin and another bottle of water. For a guy who never saw Mary Poppins, he sure did have her carpet bag.

"Here. C'mon Sam, take these." Dean held out the tablets and the water and Sam took them. Maybe he did have a headache. Maybe he didn't. Maybe it didn't matter.

_Bloodsucking monster. Spineless freak. Coward. Get what's coming to you. Coward. Stupid freak. Cowering monster. Get what you deserve._

"Cheese stick it is." Dean said and two cheese sticks appeared in front of Sam. "I even pulled the plastic back for you. C'mon Sam - you need to eat."

"Okay." Sam took the cheese sticks and after a hesitation he took a bite, expecting to gag it back, but his body didn't react other than to register hunger, so he ate them in a few swallows and finished off the bottle of water.

Dean made short work of a pudding cup then pushed to his feet with a groan. "Ugh. Hard floors and lower body circulation do _not_ go together. C'mon Sam."

"Okay." Sam stood up, feeling his own circulation jolt alive again, shooting pinpricks from his feet to his lower back. Apparently even a freak's legs could go to sleep. He watched Dean step over the salt line and when he could he took a few steps to follow him.

And then stopped.

_Salt line. Trapped. Keep you on a leash. Give you what's coming. Kill the freak. Salt line, trap the monster, kill the freak, kill the stupid freak._

"Dean?"

"C'mon Sam - traffic's starting up. We gotta get on the road."

"Dean?"

"What?"

Sam gestured at the salt line. "I can't get out."

Dean gave a kind of nod, with a kind of sigh, and stepped toward the line. Then he stopped and looked at Sam.

And shook his head.

"_No."_

"_What?"_ Was he going to leave Sam here? Was that what this had all been about?

_Monster. Freak. You're not human anymore. There's no going back. You're a monster. You're a freak. Take what's coming to you. Freak. Monster. _

"Sam - if I can walk over it, so can you."

"No I can't."

"Yes you can."

"What if I can't?"

"You can." Dean said.

"_What if I can't?_" Sam shouted but the shout ended with a sob. _"What if I can't?"_

_You die alone, that's what, stupid freak. Bloodsucking monster. Get what you deserve. Take what's coming. Die, monster. Die all alone. _

Dean sighed and closed his eyes like he didn't want to be doing this. He dropped the plastic bag and crossed the salt line back to Sam.

"Then I will break the line." Dean said. "And take you home."

"What?" That couldn't be right. _Monsters don't have homes. Freaks don't have homes. Sam_ _never had a home_. "What?"

Dean took another step closer. He looked as grim as he had driving through the darkness last night.

"Sam - you're not a freak. You're not a monster. What – because you did everything you thought you had to to save me? To save the world? If that makes you a monster, I sure the hell am one too. And you know it."

"You're not." Sam told him. "You couldn't be." _Monsters don't worry. Freaks don't care. _"You couldn't be."

"Neither could you be Sam. You just couldn't. You can cross that line."

"_But what if I can't?"_ Sam asked again. His voice was small, desperate. He was crying. But he didn't look away.

_Let Dean see your eyes. Let Dean see everything. Let Dean see you._

"I said - _I'm taking you home_. If you _can _cross the line, if you _can't _cross the line, Sammy - I'm taking you home."

"Dean - break the line."

"No."

"_Please." _

_Monster. Freak. You're not human anymore. There's no going back. You're a monster. You're a freak._

"_No."_ Dean turned and marched outside the salt line again. He turned back to Sam and held out his hand. "C'mon Sam. _Let's go home."_

Sam shook his head.

_Don't want to be in front of Dean need to be behind Dean safe is behind Dean don't want to be in front of Dean safe is Dean safe is Dean. Safe is Dean. _

And Sam realized._ Monsters don't worry. Freaks don't care. _Dean had been doing both, all night long or longer. Not hating Sam - worrying about him, taking care of him.

_Safe is Dean._

He looked at Dean's offered hand and felt like all the air had been punched out of him.

_Safe is Dean. _

Dean was outside the salt line. And Sam wanted to be with Dean.

_Home is Dean._

Sam took a few steps and Dean smiled his encouragement and urged again "_C'mon Sammy,_" and Sam walked up to the salt line - and stepped right over it. And Dean's grin of pride warmed Sam and strengthened him more than he thought possible.

_Safe is Dean. Home is Dean._

"C'mon Sam. We got places to get to."

They slipped out the same window they'd come in through, back out to the too-small car and the too-far drive. Dean started the car, put it into gear, then threw it back into park, and stared at Sam.

"What?" Sam asked. _What? What did I do? _He followed Dean's line of sight, down to his lap, down to his fingers covered with a yellowish powder of old house and dry rot. Dean sighed dramatically and dug into the plastic bag again.

"_Hands."_

"The End.


End file.
